My father battled with cancer for the last ten years of his life, and as a family we were devastated when he finally left this world.
At diagnosis we were given five years of life expectancy, so to get double that was a blessing that we cherished greatly. Every single day, week, month, and year after that initial five year prognosis was time we took to make sure we built as many memories and moments that we could.
It was clear for some months that the end was near – yet it was still a shock when the moment comes.
When that day finally came, the world was in the midst of the COVID pandemic, when there were restrictions on the number of people who could attend many events, including funerals.
Dad was a well-known figure in our home town, and we expected a large number of people would want to fill the limited ranks of mourners allowed to attend. Indeed, we heard from many people, and it broke our hearts to turn so many away.
We eventually settled on immediate family and as many of his closest friends we could fit into the allowed quota, and it wasn’t difficult to fill.
For my son, it was the first time he had lost a family member, and preparing him for the funeral was a difficult exercise in managing emotions.
The night before Dad’s funeral, a familiar number appeared on my phone.
Maddie.
She had already shown a great deal of love and support in the week between Dad’s passing and his funeral – because of course she did – but what she asked me during that phone call blew me away.
“Andrew, if possible I’d love to come tomorrow, to support you? I know you’re taking this pretty hard, and I just want to be there for you.”
I was frozen, briefly.
I thought about how the quota was already full, but thinking quickly – (and perhaps a little bit selfishly) – I answered.
“Maddie, the quota is full, but if you want to come, you’re coming. I’ll make sure they don’t count too carefully. I can’t wait to see you, and thank you for caring, like you always have.”
It rained a little during the funeral, good for hiding tears.
Maddie of course saw each each and every tear, and held my hand the entire time.
She had never met any of my family before that day, so I was getting a few odd looks and I would have some explaining to do later – but she was made welcome by everyone.
She looked impeccable, shining as much as one could in a black dress on a rainy day.
She stuck with me during the wake, and stayed as long as she possibly could – making sure that I was okay every step of the way.
I wasn’t, but having her there was something that I will never forget. To have her there on the saddest day of my life was immeasurably valuable to me.
I walked her to her car, and we chatted quietly for a few minutes – we hadn’t actually seen each other for almost a year, thanks to COVID. She kissed me on each cheek, and then gave me a little peck on the lips.
I shouldn’t have been happy, but I was smiling like an idiot.
I watched this magical woman drive off into the distance before heading back inside.
Now, time to explain.